


The King from the Shadows.

by Too_Many_Usernames



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Actual PORT Kadara, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, M/M, More worldbuilding will come, Races remain the same, Slow burn maybe? Who even knows, biotics are mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Usernames/pseuds/Too_Many_Usernames
Summary: Reyes Vidal is a bad man. He knows this well enough. But when a a thief with bright eyes starts to look at him as though he is something special he refuses to let go.





	1. Chapter 1

Nights in Kadara port get cold. Especially out by the water's edge. He looks out into the darkness, listening to the quite slaps of the waves against the shore from where he stands on his jetty. Reyes closes his a moment, forgetting worries of remaining outcasts, lost cargo and monsters poisoning the water in the badlands. The wind pushes his short black cloak behind him, snapping in the cold breeze, he's glad for his soft velvet jacket. He sighs deeply, finally opening his eyes as he surveys his territory. He's proud of this. What he's made here. Kadara port is his.

 Not by name - he is no king but a Charlatan. Charlatan is an unknown man in the shadows. Charlatan is food for loyalty. Charlatan is archers in the shadows, trained on Sloane Kelly's heart.  He is glad most know him as Reyes.

''Sir!'' The call is a quick snap from his thoughts, and Reyes turns slightly at the voice of a collective soldier. He straightens a little setting his shoulders. He can't look casual in front of his men. A quick glance over his shoulder prompts the guard to speak again

''There was a break in we only caught one - sir - He has been restrained.''

''Wonderful. I suppose soon he'll be on his way to the dungeons?'' He asks, pointedly, wondering why this soldier is bothering him. He was quite enjoying his self-loathing contemplation, Reyes considers is an import part of his daily routine. 

''Sir... Perhaps I should inform you - it took four of our guards to take him down - the Captain Drack thought... You might be interested in speaking with him'' The soldier says, hesitant at the dismissive coolness in Reyes' voice.

He quirks an eyebrow, turning fully to regard this soldier of his. He must be new - or if not, so incredibly unremarkable he's failed to ever notice him. Human - the soldier is tall and lanky, with dark skin and wiry hair that falls in loose black curls around his face. He's nervous - Reyes can see it in the way he holds his spear a little too tight, a little two awkwardly. He must be new to the city. Everyone's new in Kadara at some point. 

Reyes makes a non committal noise, not placing too much stock in this thief so far. He trusts Drack's instincts, and on any other day he'd be Bowles over that someone had managed to impress that old Krogan - but he just can't bring himself to care.

''What's your name, soldier?'' He asks instead, and he looks up, surprised, and a little alarmed.

''Kosta sir, Liam Kosta.''

''You're new?''

''Yes sir.'' He says, a slight flush painting his cheeks, as if embarrassed that Reyes can easily see his inexperience.

''Tell me Liam.'' He begins, taking a step forwards, looking the soldier up and down, not critical but curious. ''Did you see this... thief in action?'' Kosta nods quickly, his eyes briefly lighting up.

''He was... good sir, very good. And fast - I wouldn't have been able to beat him - I mean they only barely got him - if Drack hadn't shown up... he probably would have-'' Liam stops suddenly, clearly suddenly realizing he was telling on his colleagues.

"Any particular reason Drack was impressed?"

"He head butted him sir - it was awesome." The soldier says, a little stary eyed.

Reyes chuckles. He should probably intervene before Drack introduces his new prisoner to hus granddaughter as a viable mate.

Reyes can't deny He's interested now. Why target him? If he was such a good fighter, why wasn't someone employing him? _Was_ someone employing him? He can hear the hurried tread and clink of armour as Kosta turns to follow him, needlessly guiding him to the small cell in the basement of the estate. He's been there plenty of times to know the way in his sleep. He dismisses the Liam at the door - and the release of tension is almost visible as Kosta hurries away. It's immediately replaced by the thundering steps of a Krogan, and familiar rattle of bones. Drack's raspy voice cuts through the relative quite of the night. 

"You know, you could use this one. Not often impressed by you meat sacks. Far too soft. He's got Quad though." From Drack, this is akin to a sudden declaration of love. Maybe the Old Krogan will follow him home, and insist on tagging along like he did to Reyes.

"we shall see, I suppose" he replies, nodding a dismissal to Drack and stepping inside the small room. 

 

 

Reyes has always believed in the importance of a good entrance. One liner prepared, he slams open the door, allowing it to echo and reverberate around him.

Silently, he takes stock of the thief. The thief seems young - can't be older than 18 - scrawny too.He sits dejectedly, his hands shackled so that he sits slumped against the walls, with his arms over his knees, and his head hanging. The cheap blue tunic he wears is darkened in places from blood, and blood sticks to his smoothed brown hair. From his forehead is a clear bruise forming a roughly Krogan shaped bruise.

He glances up, slowly, as Reyes enters, letting his boots ring on each stone step down into the dusty prison. The boy doesn't move as Reyes nears, doesn't change his posture or try and scramble away, simply watches him with piercing blue eyes 

Reyes steps towards him, sliding a hand under his chin so that thief looks him in the eye. He's not intimated. He responds with an almost bored look, waiting for Reyes to speak.

''You look like you're waiting for someone.''

''I guess I am.'' The boy replies, surprisingly lightly. His voice is smooth, and somehow bright - it's casual and soft as though he's not sat in the dust, with irons clamped on his wrists, With all sorts of possible hells in his future. A different man would sell an attractive boy like this to a brothel, a different man would delight in taking him apart, in destroying him. A different man would banish him - send him into the badlands to face Kett and poison water. Reyes isn't that man. He's not evil.

His intruiging grows. Reyes chuckles a little, as he turns, and stands opposite him, leaning against stone steps.

''You'd be who I'm waiting for, I assume?''  The boy looks casual. A little defeated. But ultimately unafraid. It's odd to meet someone who looks at him unafraid. 

''What makes you think so?'' He asks, watching the thief with curious eyes.

''You're not wearing a uniform, and you're well dressed - that's expensive fabric, to a trained eye.''

''And you have a trained eye?'' Reyes asks, raising an eyebrow, interested. It is bloody expensive - but he likes the soft feel of it.

''No. Read your ledger - one brown velvet jacket, 380 gold, more than I ever seen in my life.'' The thief retorts, with a slightly cheeky smirk, and whislte at the price, eyeing his jacket enviously.

''Oh? You can read? That's interesting. Now, little thief why are you being so interesting? I hear you took down some of my best people trying to get out of here.'' Reyes watches him critically, not failing to notice the slight swell in his chest. _So he's proud of his fighting._

''what can I say? I'm a people person. Everyone thinks I'm interesting,'' he says, flashing another grin. Reyes wonders how many times this kid had gotten out of trouble with that damn smile. 

''You know who I am?''

''You're Reyes Vidal.'' The thief answers vaguely.

''Your turn.'' Reyes says, lightly, but he can see the reluctance in his sharp eyes. Names are powerful things, especially when shackled in someone's basement. Reyes smirks at the boys sudden silence. He understands the reluctance - and though he needs to keep power over this boy... a part of him wants the thief to be safe. A part of him wants the boy to be more than just a thief.

''Come now, I can't just keep calling you 'thief' can I? Besides, neither of us are going anywhere for some time. Might as well make this simpler.'' The thief meets his eyes, before sighing.

''Ryder.'' He mutters, finally, chains clinking as he runs a dusty hand through his hair, dried with blood.  

''Is that all I'm getting?''  Ryder shrugs, looking away from him, seemingly suddenly fascinated by the bare stone wall. Reyes watches carefully, wondering why his prisoner has suddenly turned so moody.

''So. Why rob me?'' Ryder looks at him levelly, before shrugging.

''Same as most people. Lost all my money to Sloane's protection fees. Got sick family. And you're men are collective. That means I'm not gonna be beaten to death. If collective kill you, least it's quick.'' He said with shrug.Reyes watches carefully. There was a reason he had Sloane killed. She was ruining Kadaea. For him, it only cut into his profits but her and her extortionist thugs destroyed people. People like Ryder. He wonders how many more people like Ryder there are after Sloane 

he looks back at the boy who is still watching him careful, waiting some conclusion. Some final judgement. without much more thought, he speaks. And 

''I think it would be a waste to kill you, Ryder. Never like to ruin to ruin a pretty face.'' He says with a wink, crouching to Ryder's level, he slips a key from his pocket, and releases Ryder's shackles. ''I'll be in touch, thief.'' He says, turning abruptly, and leaving him alone in the dusty basement as he slinks back into shadows.

 

That night, Reyes dreams of blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes makes a decision, at that moment, as he watches Ryder's retreating figure.
> 
> He wants him.

As Ryder scrambles through Kadara's busy streets, his shoes ringing against hot stone as he sprints towards his home, his mind is a frenzy of worry. Why had Reyes let him go? What did he want from him? It's beyond his comprehension why he still has both his hands, and his life. But he's unharmed. He was captured stealing and he's unharmed.

It makes no sense to Scott, But that's not the only thing running through his head. _Sara_. He's been gone for two days, and in two days she could have wasted away, unable to summon the strength to move, to get help to even reach some food. He thinks of his sister, slumped on the floor, blood pouring from her ears, her eyes. It's his only thought as he bursts through the doors of their home.

It's not the site that greets him. Instead, his sister is laughing, and lying in the lap of Vetra Nyx, whose laughing with her, hands softly stroking through her hair.

''Scottie!'' She says delighted, and with the help of Vetra, sits up, smiling at him, with a look that reassures him that yes, she's still alive

 ''You're back. We were worried when you didn't come home last night.'' Vetra says, watching him critically, a clear hint of disapproval in her voice.

''And you're hurt.'' Sara stands, taking a few shaky steps towards him, denying Vetra's offer of help with a simple wave of her hand. She presses cool hands to his face, frowning as she traces the shape of the bruise forming over his forehead and his eye. ''Now who beat up my little brother?'' Sara takes a huffing breath, glancing back at Vetra. ''Vetra, seems we got people to beat up.''

''Yeah, sure. We'll go beat them up when you can walk across the room, sound fair?'' Sara pouts, and snorts.

''Whatever. Soon I'll be in ass kicking condition. But for now, hold still.'' Sara closes her eyes and breathes deep, her hand beginning to glow a sporadic blue.

''Hey- wait - Sara! don't-'' He begins, panicked as Sara's magic comes to life, filling the adobe room with pale blue light. And he's panicking because he shouldn't exert herself, shouldn't risk the pain that it can bring

''-Let her.'' Vetra says quietly from behind, as The light grows stronger. He can feel it; healing magic darting across his skin, sparking across his wounds. Vetra catches her before she stumbles, beaming up at him with proud eyes, with a toss of her hair.

''You're getting better at that.'' He says quietly.

''Hey, I was a master before, like I said. Ass kicking condition is coming right up.''

''Sure thing Ryder.'' Vetra says, her voice soft, affectionate and amused as she helps her back to the nest of blankets in the corner.

''I'm just gonna...'' She begins with a yawn, snuggling down. Vetra nods toward the only other room of the house, and Scott follows, with a quick glance back at his sister.

''How close are we?'' She asks, her voice hushed and careful.

''Close.'' He responds, in the same tone, knotting his eyebrows. ''I have a match tomorrow. I win - we might just be there.''

''I got some more in - big shipment. Were closer.'' Scott nods gratefully. It's always been a team effort, looking after Sara. They both owe her their lives, after all. Vetra was the only other one there that day. The only one who understands - trapped in a remnant tomb, waiting till they starved, or went mad. It had been a day before Sara had decided it was enough.

She had put all her energy into a spell to free them. Too much energy, more than she had. He remembers the screams, the blood, the way the walls shook as she forced them apart, ripping through ancient abandoned defences, magical barriers and ancient warrior sentries. He remembers how she collapsed right into Vetra's panicked embrace, how the doctor had shook his head, defeated.

Her brain had bleed, he said. She would be in a coma, she'd be responseless the rest of her life - she'd certainly never be able to use magic.

But that wasn't Sara. She had woken up. She had spoken. She retained sparks of magic.

None of this had been cheap. Scott had done everything - he stole, and he fought in the arena's and for the smaller merc companies. Anything that would get him money. Would pay for Sara's medicine and Sloan's protection fees. He'd made that mistake once. He had the scars to remind himself not to make it again.

''So what happened, Ryder? How come you never came home last night?''

''Break in went wrong. I got caught.'' He says, trying to remain calm. A part of him is a little embarrassed - he'd gotten carried away, gotten interested. Hadn't just got in, taken all the money he could find and got out.

''And you're still alive?'' Vetra speaks with a nervous sort of laugh, eying him sceptically.

''Yeah. Don't get why, but I got out of there alive. He let me go.'' He says, shrugging as he moves to the window, thinking of brown eyes and lilting accents.

''He?''

''Reyes Vidal.''

''Reyes? Fuck, Ryder! They say he's in all kinds of shady shit. No way he's _Just_ a smuggler, no way.'' Vetra is shaking her head, not watching him, lost in thoughts of smuggler politics.

''People say he's a good guy.'' Vetra darts a scathing look towards him, scoffing.

''No such thing as a good guy in Kadara Port, Ryder. Should know that by now.''

He should believe her. Gods know he's had enough experience in this god-forsaken town to know just how Kadara Port sucks the goodness from people. But he's still alive, isn't he?

\----------

Reyes gets bored of these arena fights easily. But they're a stronghold  of Outcast support. If he closes the arena, he might be facing an uprising. So he goes in often, to check on his men - not that they know their _his_ \- and ensure there are no riots or coups bubbling. As Charlatan he has an assigned box. But it's never used. Would rather ruin the whole mystery around his title. As Reyes, he sits in the crowds with the others. He glances at the sloppily drawn board of the day's events - the main sight of the day is a captured Roekaar captain against a soldier named only 'Pathfinder' It's a jumped up execution and every knows it. He authorises these things - they placate bored soldiers, tide them over when there's no-one to beat or kill.

Reyes leans against the arena railing, hood up, watching as red sand is quickly brushed away.

The Roekaar enters from side of the arena, Sword in hand, Violet skin bare against the dusty heat. He holds his head high, looking proud against the roaring crowds.

The other fighter is introduced to cheering crowds and drawling introduction as the pathfinder. He thinks of  distant memories of a colonising empire far across the seas. It's an old title, Pathfinder. A dead one. Kadara has long shrugged off that sort of commitment, that sort of life. They're safe within the city, so why expand.

This fighter introduces himself with more flair than the prisoner, encourages the crowd to cheer for him. That's safer, he supposes. He's no more than the a executioner's blade, but he may as well be popular. The fighter turns to face his side of the Arena, and Reyes freezes in shock, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. It's Ryder. His thief from a few nights ago. Well, isn't he a little surprise.

He's very lightly armoured - wearing what looks like the same blue tunic from before, now only equipped with a short Leather pauldron on his sword arm, mismatched bracers and a cheap leather breastplate.  

Reyes watches with renewed interest, something odd for his typical visits to the arena. For once, he truly hopes that one of the fighters will _live._ The fighters turn to face each other, and they pace forwards, a terse circle forming as they prowl, exchanging a few experimental blows. Already he can see that the Roekaar is uncomfortable with the heavy axe. He's probably already injured, malnourished and exhausted. A brief thought of pity crosses his mind at the idea, before remembering how gaunt Ryder's cheeks were. How deep the bags under his eyes were.

Ryder darts forwards quickly, a sharp slash across the Angaran's thigh. There's a frustrated growl and their swords clash again. Ryder isn't as strong, nor as big as his opponent but he's standing his ground. He relays on a certain speed and grace that allows him to roll under heavy axe swings, to nimbly dodge charges.

He taunts - a quick slash, and then back to safety. Ducking and slicing. The Roekaar catches him only once, grabbing a fistful of brown hair that seems matted with blood, and throwing him almost half across the ring, his sword flying to the side. Reyes' heart seems to be in his throat, as he watches in desperation, his eyes wide as the Roekaar Walks slowly toward him, axe dragging grooves in the sand.

Reyes slumps a little, he'd wasn't expecting this. The boy's impending death caused him more distress than he had thought, and he looks away. He won't contribute to the theatre of his death; Ryder doesn't deserve that.

He's snapped out of his thoughts as the boo's of the crowd turn to sharp gasps. He looks up to see Ryder rising, a hand outstretched. In that hand, is a small dagger. He can't help the grin that breaks across his face. _Sneaky little bastard. Clever little bastard._

He rises, quick, pushing against the Angara as he pulls his dagger from the side of his neck, and glances up, for some approval, for some permission from somewhere in the crowd. The arena gives him all the assurance he should need, screaming his name and literally screaming for blood.

Ryder waits for a moment, letting the swell of the audience burst around him, before he brings his dagger down through the Angaran's throat. For a second, it seems as though there's silence - the crowds roars are distant somehow, and from where he stands, his hands gripped tighter on the railing than he realised - he watches. Ryder's face is blank, as the Roekaar spasms under his him, in his final death throws, blood seeping into the ground. There's no pageantry this time, as Ryder leaves the ring, the dagger in his hand dripping a clear red trail across the disrupted sands of the arena as he disappears into the dark.

Reyes makes a decision, at that moment, as he watches Ryder's retreating figure.

He wants him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Reyes seems about OOC? I'm trying to write him as a bit disillusioned with his role, and self-hating, because those elements of his character really stuck with me.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
